But about an hour after dark there came some hasteners a good deal
more urgent and effective than the officers. All afternoon and early
evening a number of shells had been coming over and falling somewhere
out from the dump, but the faintness of their whistle and sigh, and
the dull thump of their burst, told that they were far enough off not
to be worth worrying about. But now there came the ominous shriek,
rising into a louder but a fuller and deeper note, that told of a shell
dropping dangerously near the listeners. As the shriek rose to a
bellowing, vibrating roar, the workers amongst the boxes ducked and ran
in to crouch beside or under the lorries, or flatten themselves close
up against the piles of ammunition. At the last second, when every man
was holding his breath, and it seemed that the shell was on the point
of falling fairly on top of them, they heard the deafening roar change
and diminish ever so slightly, and next instant the shell fell with
an earth-shaking crash just beyond the dump and the main road. Some
of the splinters sang and hummed overhead, and the workers were just
straightening from their crouched positions and turning to remark to
one another, when again there came to them the same rising whistle and
shriek of an approaching shell. But this time, before they could duck
back, the voice of the “O.C. Dump,” magnified grotesquely through a
megaphone, bellowed at them, “Gas masks at alert position every man.
Sharp now.”
A good many of the men had stripped off gas masks and coats, because
the masks swinging and bobbing about them were awkward to work in, and
the night was close and heavy enough to call for as little hampering
clothing as possible in the job of heaving and hauling heavy boxes
about.
A word from Vickers to the A.S.C. officer explained his shout. “If one
of those shells splashes down on top of that stack of gas-shells of
ours, this won’t be a healthy locality without a mask on.” The men must
have understood or remembered the possibility, because, heedless of the
roar of the approaching shell, they grabbed hastily for their masks
and hitched them close and high on their chests, or ran to where they
had hung them with their discarded tunics, and slung them hastily over
shoulder, and ready.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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